


The Rendezvous One-shot

by lavenderbees



Series: can't sleep [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anxiety, Character Death, Death, Depressing, Dreams and Nightmares, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Oops, Sad, Suicide, and cry, cant sleep, drugs??, i only write angst, not my idea, this animation is so good, watvh it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderbees/pseuds/lavenderbees
Summary: Matthew just wants to get away. (Inspired by/Based on "The Rendezvous Storyboard Animatic" on YouTube)





	The Rendezvous One-shot

**Author's Note:**

> sorry but i can't sleep and this came to me and i'm evil

Matthew walked down the halls, eyes trained on the linoleum floor. He heard the whispers all around him, the words swarming like a hive of bees in his head. Instead he chose to ignore them and focus on the white noise guard his brain provided as a temporary solution.

 

He gripped his binder tighter to his chest after he stumbled over his own foot. Only a little longer to class, when he could at least take his misery sitting down.

 

The seat was hard and uncomfortable, but it wasn't so much how it felt and was more so how he did. He hadn't gotten enough sleep last night, and the countless eyes upon him made his skin itch. He wasn't used to attention in any way, and the fact that it was all negative now didn't make anything easier. Class hadn't even started and he was already counting down the time until it ended.

 

When the day was over, he started his walk home, already bracing himself to survive the 30 seconds it took to bolt through the front door and past his parents. Sometimes they noticed him and he was pinned to the wall in fear without a hand even having to graze his skin. Most afternoons he walked in and they were too drunk to care. That probably scared him even more than when they weren't, because they were sure to yell slurred commands at him that he couldn't understand and get even angrier when he didn't do them

 

“Birdie!” He jumped mid step, clutching his bag. He was scared to turn around, but he didn't have to before the familiar pale arms wrapped around his neck. “You haven't replied to my texts lately!” His high shoulders dropped.

 

“Ah, I'm sorry Gil." He started lamely. "I've had a lot of, ehm... homework.” He stopped walking and stood on the street corner. 

 

“Too busy for your best friend? _Cruel!_ ” 

 

Matthew smiled down at the ground, but it was more of a grimace; Sour and awkward and sad. Nothing like the old bits of sunshine they exchanged, the sweet and sincere ones that never seemed to end. The albino stopped walking with him. “Hey, I'm just joking. I was saying, that if you want to come over my place, to like, chill or something, you can.” They both picked up on the underlying message to those words.

 

“M-Maybe later, Gil...”

 

He felt the albino’s body press up against his back. One arm roamed farther down his stomach, rubbing short circles there. He felts warm lips upon his neck, Gilbert’s seductive voice floating through his ears. “I miss you a lot, y’know. Been thinking about you like crazy. I bought this new shit Herman’s been selling- it's like acid, sorta. I wanted to try it out with you... I miss you there,” he repeated.

 

”No, I- I can’t, Gil.” He tore himself from the strong arms. He tore himself from safety. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

 

“You've been saying that ever since-” He caught himself, but Matthew knew what was about to be said. It made his touch burn all the more. “You can't keep doing this to yourself, Birdie. Would Al want you to do this?”

 

“Does it matter what Al wants anymore?”

 

Gilbert sighed down to the ground.

 

 

“I'm sorry, Gil. I'll call you later. Bye.” He walked home, past the intoxicated laughs and shouts coming through the living room and up to his bedroom. Falling onto the bed, he closed his eyes, wishing for a long and undisturbed sleep.

 

When he opened them, he remembered like he did countless times that it was useless.

 

Darkness surrounded him, and he found it funny how he curled in on himself for protection even though he knew it provided none. He'd been going through the same thing for months. It made no sense for him to wish for anything more than a quicker encounter with the shadows.

 

_‘I bet he did it on purpose. He's always been that quiet and creepy type of kid.”_

_‘You think he hired a hitman? I heard he was jealous.’_

 

Matthew doesn't even know how his brain had the capacity to remember all of the words whispered behind his back. Maybe it liked torturing itself as much as he liked trying to shut everything out, and maybe that was why he was always at war with himself. He sobbed into his shirtsleeves, though it was more of a reflex than something he actually meant to do.

 

He rarely cried because he meant it anymore; he just found a strange solace in it that nothing else gave him anymore. It was all he ever did in this never ending and constant-

 

“Bonjour.”

 

 _Oh_. That was different.

 

He looked up from the crook of his elbows. A young man who looked around his age stood in front of him, hand outstretched. An easy smile was spread across his face. Around his limb light cut through the thick shadows. He was radiating _light_.

 

“Who are you?” Matthew asked, eyes still fixed on his outstretched hand. 

 

“My name is Francis. May I have the pleasure of yours?”

 

Francis? Matthew rummaged through his muddled memories for a Francis, but it returned to him as a blank. He'd never met a Francis before, because if he had he would've certainly kept the mesmerizing face in his brain.

 

“I’m Matthew.” He looked back at the hand in front of his face. Anxiety rolled in his stomach, but he took it anyways. As soon as he did, the inky shadows dissipated, revealing an elegant ballroom and a floor covered in white flowers. A warmth spread throughout his palm and upwards.  

 

“It's nice to meet you, Matthew.” A kiss was pressed against the back of his hand, and he felt himself go red. What kind of dream was this?

 

He was led around, a mix between clumsy waltzing and stumbling. It was all too much to take in, so he was half glad when they stopped in front of a door.

 

“But I believe it is time for you to go.”

 

“Go where?”

 

The man's face twisted into a devilish smile. “To the Underworld, of course.”

 

“What?!” Matthews cheeks paled to an unsavory color. Francis chuckled to himself. “I'm kidding. To go wake up. Your phone is ringing.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Walk through the door to wake up, minet.” Francis pushed him to the entrance, but Matthew reached his other hand out quickly. “Wait! Will I- Will I be able to see you again?”

 

“Of course.” And with a smile he pushed Matthew towards the door again and he didn’t resist. He all too confused when he woke up on his bed, heart beating against his ribcage. It seemed so real. He could still feel the warmth over his hands.

 

He realized that his phone actually was ringing and stretched to pick it up, pressing it to his ears. Only one person called him this late.

 

“Hi, Arthur.”

 

“Hello, Matthew.” His voice was quiet and tired and sad and scared, but it rarely wasn’t these days. Matthew doesn’t even remember when they started talking. Maybe 3 years ago when Alfred and him had started dating, but the conversations never consisted of much more than pleasantries and questions about homework.

 

After the funeral, they became each other's past. Doesn’t everyone want to speak with their pasts? They were drawn together by a death and many of their conversations’ focal point was that, especially the ones that happened in the middle of the night.

 

“Are you okay?” He asked, but he was really thinking about his dream.

 

“I don't know. I know Jane - It's so weird that she wants me to call her by her first name, I’ve never done that with my shrink or any of my other therapists. She says it's to help us connect, but I just find it quite  _weird -_  But she says that if I ever have a nightmare or a panic attack, I can practice my breathing. But that’s just bloody crazy talk, and she always tells me that on average 4.5 billion people are awake when you are, so I shouldn’t feel alone, but...” He paused to take a shaky breath.

 

“I feel so alone.” His voice sounded so small.

 

It was amazing what death could do to a person. Arthur was always mad with people before. He would yell at them without any regrets and let’s his anger flare without much reason. Just as long as he saw somebody being immature, that was all and enough to offend them with scathing words and the adult-like air that he carried. Now, whenever he even dare to raise his voice he broke down. He didn’t yell at anybody but himself. The only actions he criticized were his, and he wasn’t aware of anything as he was before. Nothing was right. He had been destroyed, and it was torture to Matthew watching him try to put himself back together and crush the pieces smaller at the same time. 

 

”Are you okay?” he asked again. “Do you want me to come over? Mom and Dad are probably out cold by now.”

 

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine." A pause. "Would you… Would you mind telling me that story, of that day you and Al went to the beach as kids?”

 

“Of course not.”

 

And through his tight chest and the lump in his throat, he forced out the memory from years ago, and whispered soothing words to Arthur as he sobbed afterwards. He ignored the need to sob with him, because he refused to be weak when he was needed.

 

It was Thursday night when Matthew saw _him_ again. He’d been thinking about him all week, about the strangeness of the whole situation, but he still wanted to see him against his better judgement.

 

After finishing his homework he laid on his bed, waiting to drift off to sleep. When he woke back up he was in an aquariu. The same white flowers covered the floor. He looked around, but found nobody.

 

“Surprise!” From behind him, somebody’s hands held his shoulders.

 

“Ah!” He whipped around, eyes wide before realizing it was Francis. “You scared me.”

 

“I know.” A dazzling grin covered his face, and from his back he revealed another flower, though it was bigger and creme colored. He reached out, brushing a lock of the shorter’s hair back with the stem he tucked behind his red ear.

 

“I- I- “ Matthew was a stuttering mess, but Francis stood calm and collected.

 

“It isn’t half as beautiful as you, but it is a good accent.”

 

“Thank you...." He heard his heart thumping in his chest along to the hum of the ghostly blue fish tanks.

 

“No need for that, minet. Sadly, no matter how much I enjoy your company, you must say goodbye.” Matthew didn't understand why he was so dissapointed at that. He knew it was only fabricated reality, but it felt so real.

 

“Oh… of course.” The same black door appeared in front of him and he walked out hesitantly.

 

The next morning all he could think about was those sparkling deep blue eyes and his charming voice. He was in a haze the rest of the day. As he was about to walk outside, he was stopped by a certain albino.

 

“Birdie! Slow down! About the party tonight, do you want to-”

 

“I have plans today, Gil!” _Plans_? Was that was those were?

 

Gil looked as surprised as he felt, but a smile found its way onto his expression. “Really? Wow, that’s so great! I’m proud of you, Mattie!”

 

“Proud? What, can I not do anything because my brother’s dead?" Maybe he meant it as a joke before he said it, but after he heard the words fall from his lips they felt a lot heavier than he meant them to.

 

“No, that not what I meant! I just-”

 

“Am I supposed to be an antisocial freak now?" His brain told him to stop, but his mouth wouldn't. "Look at poor Mattie! His big brother is dead and he’s all helpless and defenseless now.” The words felt like acid burning his throat.

 

"Well guess what, Gil? I don't need Al to talk to people!”

 

After he stormed away, he realized that everything he said was a lie.

 

He woke up again, surrounded by the flowers that characterized the dreamy landscape. The park around him was large and green, bright sun shining over everything. He sat on a bench in shorts and sandals he didn't remember having.

 

“Mathieu!” Francis walked over to him, smiling and handing him an ice cream cone. “Bonjour, minet! How was your day?”

 

Mathew smiled for the first time in hours. “Great, now. And-” He smelled his ice cream cone. “How’d you know I liked Maple flavored ice cream?” Francis shrugged nonchalantly.

 

“Just a hunch.”

 

They sat in quiet for a moment. Matthew looked to his side again, an amused laugh escaping through his throat. “There’s ice cream on your nose!”

 

“Oh?” Francis tried to look at his nose like a child and Matthew laughed louder. He didn't even know he could still do that. "You’re stupid!”

 

“At least I have good looks.”

 

“I suppose.”

 

They sat there together, and it felt... nice. He felt nice. He wanted to stay forever. The door appeared in front of him, and Matthew stood, turning back around before walking completely out. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

Francis bowed and winked, a mix between flirtatious and gentleman that still managed to make Matthew go warm. “Au revoir,  mon amour.”

 

Matthew apologized to Gil and offered they go out to see a movie, which they hadn’t done since earlier last year. He ignored his parents for the most part, not minding the fact that they were too drunk to notice him slink in and out through the door every day.

 

His days became a wonderful pattern of awake, go through school and go to sleep, awaiting what beautiful things he would see that night.

 

Saturday night they waltzed around a breathtaking fountain, water covering the white flowers that were scattered everywhere. The moon hitting their petals created a heavenly glow that he knew he wouldn't likely forget. The suit he wore might’ve been a bit uncomfortable, if he had focused on it instead of the hand pressed against the base of his back. He adored the way the Frenchman held him against his chest, like he was somebody special. Like he was somebody the young man cared about. The feeling of such tender human contact was one he wouldn't forget.

 

After that, he was so happy that he decided maybe, just maybe he would answer in class. He felt fine. After the teacher called on him, he rushed out the words, and albeit quietly, he knew that he’d just accomplished a massive goal. He thought that maybe, if he tried some more, he could be okay again.

 

And then after class, he didn’t.

 

He should’ve known not to go the backway. The two boys waited for him, sneers upon their face as they looked down at him like prey. ‘You think you’re special? How funny!’

 

The biting cold of Winter could never compare to their words.

 

As he was shoved into the snow, all he could think about was Francis. Everything else was numb to him. The tears streaming down his face felt like ice.

 

When they walked away he rushed home. He ran into his room, with its paint peeling off the walls and collapsed onto the bed, waiting for the sweet escape of sleep...

 

That never came.

 

He sat awake for hours, it seemed like, staring at the ceiling and trying to will himself to bed. Nothing worked.

 

He got an idea.

 

He snuck downstairs, past the snores of his mother and father and to their bathroom. Opening up the mirror, he reached for the sleeping pills, reading over the warning haphazardly before poping two into his mouth. He thought nothing of it. It was only because he needed it.

 

It was only tonight.

 

That night Francis and he flew over the white ground on the back of a mystical dragon. He held onto the taller’s waist, pressing his face into the muscular back.

 

It wasn't only that night.

 

He did it the next night, as they walked through a warm sunflower field. Francis had pressed a soft kiss to his temple before placing a flower crown around his head and grinning again. More kisses followed, over his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose.

 

Matthew did it all the nights after that.

 

He began falling asleep at the dinner table or in the shower.

 

One day after he fell asleep in a particularly nosy teacher's class, he came home to his livid parents.

 

“What is this?” His father yelled, anger a fire in his eyes. Mathew had almost forgotten how vulnerable it made him feel. “Are you popping my pills?"

 

“No, dad, I-” He couldn't find his words fast enough before a slap burned across his face. Tears of disbelief pooled in the corners of his eyes. “Dad, I-”

 

“You're not my son. Alfred was my son!”

 

Matthew cried into his fingers. After they left to their room he grabbed the pill bottle from where it had fallen onto the floor and forced as many as he could past his sore throat.

 

He knocked out almost instantly, waking up in a start. He still smiled brightly. All he could think about was how happy he was. Francis was here now, and he'd make it better. “Francis!”

 

When the other turned around, tears ran down his face, and his beautiful blue eyes were sad. “Minet…” Francis pushed him to the familiar door that meant the dreams end. “Mathieu, you have to go. “

 

“What? I just-”

 

“Mathieu, Minet, Mon Amour, please! You must-” The door shattered into pieces before he could finish, and Francis breath came to a stuttering stop when it disappeared. “Non.”

 

“Francis, what- Francis, why are you crying?!”

 

He tried to use his calloused hands to wipe the tears tracking down the porcelain cheeks. Francis stopped him to stare, to gaze and do nothing else. He then kissed him deeply and quickly, and then gazed sadly into his lover’s eyes. His dark blue irises were now blood red, and his body slowly morphed into a larger form without his say. He was shrouded in a dark hood, and his hand was all bone.

 

Fear rose in Matthew's eyes along with the tears understanding brang. He sobbed and shook his head _no, no_ , he would not die like Alfred, but Francis just shushed him soothingly and tucked a white flower from the ground behind his ears.

 

When the teen was taken into the dark embrace, he felt nothing at all except peace.

 

His mother and father’s cries were almost as bitter as their alcohol the next morning, and Arthur didn't have anyone to ride out his panic attack that night with, and Gilbert had nobody to tease anymore.

 

At least he was buried next to Alfred.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't now how many mistakes there are because I wrote this in two hours but whateverrrr. hope this destroyed your soul but you still enjoyed it!!! much love byyee
> 
> minet = kitten 
> 
> watch what it was inspired off of here: https://youtu.be/T9Ay8j_fkgk
> 
> edit:i cleaned it UP


End file.
